The earth-shaking thud of Yammy's severed arm hitting the sand was so immense it momentarily halted the fierce battle between Kenpachi Zaraki and Nnoitra Gilga.
Nnoitra's four eyes widened in sheer disbelief, his scythes lowering a fraction. "How is that possible?! Yammy's in his Resurrección! He's a mountain! And his arm was just… cut off?!"
"HAHAHAHA!" Kenpachi's roar of laughter was a stark contrast, his body a canvas of deep cuts and his shihakushō soaked in his own blood. Yet, his fighting spirit burned brighter than ever. "This Amamiya guy! I knew he was holding out on us! Hey, you! Number Five! Stop slackin' off and show me what you've really got!"
"Tch! You talk too much, Shinigami!" Nnoitra snarled, his frustration mounting. He had cleaved into this madman multiple times, yet Kenpachi kept getting back up, each time stronger and more ferocious than before. It defied all logic.
On the other side of the battlefield, Yammy's rage was rapidly cooling, replaced by a cold, primal fear as he stared at the gargantuan blade of pure energy in Amamiya Miyako's grasp. The sight of his own arm lying separate from his body was a shock his simple mind couldn't easily process.
Miyako, however, frowned slightly. It wasn't the sword's effectiveness that concerned him, but a sharp, familiar pain in his shoulder. The wound Aizen had given him had torn open again, staining his black shihakushō with fresh blood.
'Did I overexert myself channeling that much power…?'
With a mere thought, blue reishi condensed in his hand, solidifying into a tangible, white surgical needle and thread. In his enhanced state, his control over spiritual particles was absolute, allowing him to manifest solid objects from energy. With practiced efficiency, he willed the needle to stitch the wound closed again.
"What the hell is that sword?!" Yammy bellowed, his voice a mixture of pain and terror.
"This?" Miyako glanced at the massive reishi blade. "It's just a sword. An 'ordinary' blade of light." He had no intention of explaining the intricacies of his hybrid power—how the blade was layered with his Zanpakuto's innate power of Rejection, allowing it to sever spiritual bonds and Hierro alike.
"You're mocking me!" Yammy roared, the condescending answer whipping his fear back into a frenzy. He swung his remaining arm in a wild, desperate grab for the floating Shinigami.
"Is that wise?" Miyako asked, his voice laced with a mocking chill as he easily flitted out of reach using Hirenkyaku. "You don't have a third arm, do you? Or do you possess a hidden talent, like Ulquiorra's High-Speed Regeneration?"
The taunt struck home. Yammy hesitated for a split second, his hand freezing mid-swing. But the pause was brief, his bottomless anger quickly overwhelming any semblance of strategy. With a guttural roar, he lunged again, his single arm swatting futilely at the air.
With only one arm, catching the impossibly swift Miyako was a fool's errand—exactly the outcome Miyako had intended. While he kept Yammy distracted, a crucial part of his power was at work elsewhere.
His Bankai, the Shinya Zetsunen, which had been hovering at his side, had vanished. Unnoticed by the enraged Espada, it had silently ascended to a point high above Yammy's head. There, it hung in the air like a sword of Damocles, its form beginning to change.
Miyako's Vollständig-enhanced Bankai wasn't just a weapon for him to wield; it possessed a degree of autonomy. Under his mental command, the massive bow began to hum, actively drawing in the ambient reishi of Hueco Mundo. It condensed this energy, along with the vast spiritual pressure Miyako was channeling into it, forming a single, colossal arrow aimed directly at the crown of Yammy's head.
As more and more power gathered, the two ethereal blue ribbons adorning the bow flared with brilliant light. Bands of solid reishi coiled around the bow's limbs, engulfing it entirely. The original black-and-white physical form of the Jōmetsu Bow dissolved, transforming into a gigantic, shimmering construct of pure azure energy that continued to swell in size and luminosity.
"Damn you! Damn you! DAMN YOU!" Yammy screamed, his sole arm flailing wildly. His Balas were too slow, his Ceros too easily dodged. He was utterly powerless against the blue streak of light that zipped around him, the luminous blade occasionally lashing out to carve new, searing wounds into his colossal body. His roars of impotent fury echoed for miles, a testament to his humiliation.
From a safe distance, Uryū Ishida and Mayuri Kurotsuchi watched the one-sided spectacle.
"Is… is that really the power of the Letzt Stil?" Uryū whispered, his voice thick with awe and confusion. "Why is it so different…?"
"Fool," Mayuri scoffed, though his analytical gaze was fixed intently on the battle. "Your primitive version was simple, brute-force absorption. What Amamiya is doing is a refined subjugation. He's not just stealing reishi; he's weaving it with his own unique spiritual pressure. It's a hybrid. It's becoming impossible to distinguish where his Shinigami powers end and his Quincy abilities begin."
Hearing Mayuri Kurotsuchi's words, Uryū Ishida fell into a heavy silence. The mystery of Amamiya Miyako's true identity gnawed at him. The only one who might have answers was his own father, a man who guarded his secrets with iron resolve.
'To wield both Shinigami and Quincy powers… Amamiya Miyako, just who are you?' Uryū's gaze was locked on the spectacle of ultimate Quincy power, his mind a whirlwind of unanswerable questions.
High above, in the main hall of Las Noches, the tremors of Yammy's furious roars and spiritual pressure were unmistakable. To Kurosaki Ichigo, it was clear from the Espada's bellows that he was failing to land a single clean hit.
"Your buddy sounds like he's in a real pinch," Ichigo goaded, his Bankai-clad form a blur of black and red as he pressed his attack. "What's wrong? Still not gonna get serious?"
"Buddy? You refer to Yammy?" Ulquiorra Cifer replied, his voice a dispassionate monotone as he effortlessly parried every swing of Zangetsu with his own sealed Zanpakutō. "Among the Espada, such a concept does not exist. Camaraderie is meaningless. If Yammy falls, it is solely because his strength was insufficient."
Ichigo's brow furrowed. He had assumed there was some twisted bond between them, but Ulquiorra's cold dismissal was absolute. It made his blood boil. "Are all Arrancar as heartless as you?!"
"Let me educate you," Ulquiorra stated, his green eyes devoid of light. "Each of the Espada represents one of the ten principal causes of human death. Loneliness, Old Age, Sacrifice, Emptiness, Despair, Destruction, Intoxication, Madness, Greed, and Rage."
The words clicked into place in Ichigo's mind. The Espada he had faced—their personalities, their obsessions—they all fit.
"And I," Ulquiorra continued, "the Cuatro Espada, Ulquiorra Cifer, represent Emptiness. Therefore, I cannot comprehend emotions such as the 'trust' you speak of. Perhaps…" His gaze flickered for a fraction of a second towards Orihime. "If I kill you and that woman, I will finally understand what it is to feel."
"You want to feel something?!" Ichigo roared, his resolve hardening into something primal. "Then I'll make you feel it! I'll pour everything I've got right into your blade!" He slammed his free hand against his face. A surge of Hollow reiryoku erupted, and a white, bone-like mask with jagged red markings materialized over his features. A guttural, hybrid roar tore from his throat as his power skyrocketed.
…
Meanwhile, on the desert battlefield, Yammy's massive face had twisted into a grotesque mask of pure fury. The white horns on his head seemed to swell and warp with his escalating rage, making him look like a true demon of legend.
His Resurrección form was useless. His one remaining arm couldn't grasp the flitting Shinigami. His Cero was detonated mid-air, and even his rapid-fire Bala were too slow to track Amamiya Miyako's Hirenkyaku-enhanced speed. Each failure stripped away another shred of his sanity, feeding a vicious cycle of ever-growing anger. His body swelled minutely, his spiritual pressure spiking—but it was the last gasp of a cornered beast.
For Amamiya Miyako, his preparations were finally complete.
The blue streak of light that had been dancing around the giant came to an abrupt, silent halt in mid-air. Seeing his elusive prey finally stop, Yammy lunged, his colossal hand closing around Miyako with a thunderous clap.
This time, Miyako didn't dodge. He allowed himself to be captured, his expression serene as he looked up at the enraged Espada.
"Finally… FINALLY! I'VE GOT YOU! HAHAHA!" Yammy's laughter boomed, a sound of manic triumph. He wouldn't simply crush him; that was too merciful. "I'm going to make your death last! I'm going to savor every second of your suffering!"
"Thank you very much, Yammy," Miyako said, his voice calm even as the giant's grip tightened.
"Huh? Thank me? You're damn right you should thank me! Thank me for the agony you're about to endure!"
"No," Miyako corrected him softly. "Thank you for being so consumed by rage that you failed to notice my movements until the very last moment."
"What are you—?" Yammy's words died in his throat as a terrifying realization dawned. The massive spiritual bow that was always at the Shinigami's side… it was gone.
At that same instant, a chilling, lethal pressure descended from directly above him. It was a feeling that froze the blood in his veins.
Yammy's head snapped upwards. All his anger evaporated, replaced by a cold, stark terror he had never known.
Hanging in the air above him was a bow of colossal proportions, forged entirely from brilliant blue-white reishi. It was now as large as his own Resurrección body. The bowstring was drawn taut, and nocked upon it was not an arrow, but a gigantic sword of concentrated light, its tip aimed directly at the crown of his head.
"The Sword of Damocles," Miyako murmured from within Yammy's grasp. "Farewell."
Yammy understood. There was no dodging. There was no blocking. The sheer, overwhelming power contained in that single shot was a verdict of death. The fight left his eyes, his expression going blank as he stared into the face of his inevitable end.
The bowstring released.
TWANG!
The massive light-sword descended from heaven. A blinding, all-consuming whiteness swallowed the world, as if a second sun had been born on the sands of Hueco Mundo. The resulting shockwave ripped across the landscape with apocalyptic force, hurling up a tidal wave of sand and stone. The outer walls of Las Noches groaned under the assault, shielding the main structure from total annihilation.
A colossal mushroom cloud rose slowly into the air, a demon's fist punching into the sky. The false ceiling Aizen had created was torn asunder, and through the gaping hole, the true, pale moonlight of Hueco Mundo finally spilled down, illuminating the wasteland below.